Oneshot Collection
by Jynxiii
Summary: Will include various pairings. Cross-posted on tumblr and/or ao3. ((Newest chapter: KuroKen))
1. Chapter 1

The idea being Tobio's seemed to have no bearing on his anger, and, trying to muffle his laughter, Shōyō tugged on the knot which bound his hands to the bed post whilst mourning the possibility that after this, Tobio may have an aversion to any experimental sexual exploits. Rather a disappointment; he had just gotten comfortable enough to discuss these things with Shōyō.

"Stop _laughing_, Shōyō," Tobio said. "This is all your fault." He struggled against his bonds and winced as he felt new bruises forming. Shōyō ran his fingers along his wrist, his lips pressing together when he saw the reddened skin until Tobio elbowed him in the chest.

"It was your idea!" Shōyō exclaimed, his nose wrinkling the way it did when he was hurt and angry.

"I thought you could tie a knot that you could actually undo!"

Wow, he really was furious. Sparks flew from his eyes and Shōyō almost fell off the bed backwards when he scrambled away from the murderous expression, considering an escape route.

"Don't you dare, Shōyō. Undo the knot _now_."

"I'm trying." He tugged at the knot again, giving an exclamation of pain when one of his nails bent backwards. Tobio continued glaring as he sucked his finger and struggled again. "You'll only make it tighter if you keep on pulling like that."

"We are _never_ doing that again."

"Really?" Shōyō said around his finger as he studied the knot from all angles. "You talked me into it in the first place, Tobio."

"Well it was one of fantasies, but I didn't—" He broke off and his cheeks darkened. "I didn't think it would end up like _this_. I trusted your ability to tie a simple knot."

He really did look morose at that (though still trying to hold the illusion that he was merely angry), resembling a child who had just found out Santa didn't exist.

(An incongruous image with the fact that he was currently tied up and naked, but Shōyō tried to ignore that fact. He was pretty sure that the last thing Tobio wanted was a second round when he was still like this.)

When the façade dropped away completely and he simply looked as if all his dreams had been crushed, Shōyō definitely felt guilty that he hadn't taken more time and more care beforehand and hadn't stopped his hands shaking as he had hurriedly tied the rope. His lower lip trembled and he sniffed before leaning his forehead on Tobio's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut to try to stop the tears. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice quivering. "I'm so sorry, Tobio." He tightened his arms around Tobio's chest, a few tears leaking out when he realised Tobio couldn't do the same and it was entirely his fault.

"D-dumbass," Tobio stuttered, blushing again when Shōyō looked up at him with tears in his eyes. "It's not your fault," he admitted. "I kinda… uh… sprung it on you. I should have given you more time to prepare." His voice was gruff and Shōyō tightened his arms again, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

"Worst comes to worst I'll just keep you here as my sex slave," Shōyō joked, his eyes creasing at the corners as he smiled widely. With his cheek against his chest, he felt Tobio's heart rate pick up and his breathing hitch and slowly pulled away to look at him narrowly. "Really? Don't tell me that's another one of your _fantasies_," he said, crossing his arms. Tobio darted a sheepish look at him before resolutely looking out of the open window. "Are you a masochist?" he asked curiously, scrambling backwards on his knees when Tobio gave him another murderous look. "It was just a question. I really think I should know these things."

"Whatever. Are you going to get me free or not?"

Shōyō, a determined look Tobio recognised from games on his face, nodded and muttered _'Fight!'_ under his breath before working anew at the knot. "I have an idea," he said when it still wasn't any looser a minute later. "Wait here a minute," he said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders (as Tobio sarcastically said, "Oh, of course I can move.") and going to the kitchen to take a knife from the utensil drawer. Tobio's face was a sight to be seen when he came back, the blood draining from it and an expression filled with horror. "Relax; I'm not going to use it on _you_. Keep your hands still." He sawed at the knot, crying out in triumph when Tobio could tug his hands away and slip the rope off his wrists. Chucking the knife somewhere behind him, he bounded into Tobio's arms, kissing his lips lightly before saying, "Want to try that again?"

At which he was dumped to the floor, Tobio's expression indignant and still slightly horrified.


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe it was the electricity in the air from the storm, maybe it was Shōyō trying to make up for the fact that it was so dark, _maybe_ it was just to bloody _annoy_ Tobio as much as possibly could, but whatever the explanation, Shōyō was being even more (if such a thing was even _possible_) bubbly and energetic. He was bouncing around happily, making loud exclamations at every clap of thunder as Tobio shivered, feeling more and more like he'd been put in a washing machine at the highest setting.

"It's your fault, really," Shōyō said, finally standing still.

"I don't control whether there's a storm or not," Tobio said, feeling quite disgruntled. What he'd _really_ want was for his boyfriend to stop bouncing about like an excited puppy and maybe comfort him a bit. After all, when he really wanted to, he was a decent caregiver.

"No, but I saw what you were doing. You kept the umbrella on my side so I wouldn't get wet."

So he had noticed. Tobio looked away from Shōyō's accusatory eyes and sneezed, shivering again and very much regretting having not left Shōyō in the rain. It was _his_fault he'd forgotten his umbrella. And he was certain that had it been Shōyō feeling so awful he would have been a lot more sympathetic.

The lightning lit up the room again and Shōyō bounded back to the window. "You should come watch it, Tobio! Why does lightning happen?"

"I don't know. The sun or something. A particularly concentrated ray of… of sunlight." He sneezed again and closed his eyes.

"Wow…" Shōyō said. "What about thunder?"

"Just ask a scientist," Tobio grumbled. Every minute that passed he was starting to feel worse. What if… what if he died? Would Karasuno be able to make it without him? He jumped when a small, cold hand pressed against his forehead.

"You're really burning up, Tobio."

"But I feel really cold," he said.

"You need to take off your clothes."

Tobio, not entirely sure whether what he'd just said was due to some hallucination, stared at him as Shōyō looked back at him expectantly. Certainly… he didn't want to do that _now_? "What?"

"Your clothes. They're wet and…" His eyes widened as he blushed a dark crimson. "Not that! I… I meant wet clothes will only make it worse. Here…" he settled next to Tobio and took off his own jacket before tugging Tobio's off his shoulders and undoing the buttons of his shirt, wrapping his own warmer and drier jacket around him.

"But you'll get cold."

Shōyō shook his head. "I'm toasty warm."

"You're shivering, dumbass."

He shook his head again, his eyes narrowing determinedly, but the effect was rather lost when his teeth were chattering.

"You're an idiot," Tobio said, pulling him closer and hugging him. His body was warm anyway, and the way he squirmed before settling in more comfortably was cute.

"I think you're delirious."

"Huh?"

"Delirious. You just called me cute."

Tobio, feeling himself sinking into some sort of half-doze, mumbled, "But you _are_ cute."

"I don't _want _to be cute."

He carried on mumbling under his breath, a pleasant, comforting backdrop to the rumbles of thunder and the rain striking the roof, only moving once Tobio's jacket dried to replace his own. Tobio, his head on Shōyō's lap, closed his eyes to wait out the headache and the storm outside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Four times Kuroo couldn't make the apple pie and one time he finally could**

1 – Fights between children were always a common occurrence, especially between two as different as Kenma and Kuroo. Forgiveness, to them, took a long time. An entire summer's afternoon sat at opposite ends of the garden refusing to talk, a morning stuck inside due to rain, Kuroo increasingly more agitated and Kenma silent and almost motionless in the corner. The next morning, though, all was forgotten.

However, when one rule was broken and Kuroo, angry and bored, wrenched a console out of Kenma's hand and it clattered to the floor, the screen going black, Kenma demanded that Kuroo leave.

It was the next day, when Kenma still hadn't found it worth his while to forgive Kuroo, that he opened the door to him with his hand raised, poised to knock and the other hand behind his back.

"I wanted to say sorry."

It didn't discourage him when Kenma didn't reply.

"And that I'll never do anything of the sort again." He shook his head vigorously, until Kenma had a small smile on his face from how ridiculous he looked.

"What do you have behind your back?"

It was a bit awkward to bring the plate round without dropping what was atop it, but seeing Kenma's reaction—like a cat who had just caught sight of its favourite toy—was worth it. "I made you some apple pie. From my mother's recipe."

Kenma's hands reached out before he had even finished speaking, and Kuroo let him take the plate from his hands and followed him into the kitchen.

It tasted awful, but Kenma insisted that it was the thought that counted.

2 – Kenma felt remarkably warm when he woke up the first day of his very first training camp, and when he noticed that Kuroo had somehow, during the night, worked his way over to his bed and even stolen his pillow he felt rather disdainful about it all. Kuroo didn't have much of a sense of personal space, after all, and it took a lot of getting used to when he continued to be like that in public.

Right now, his main concern was to get Kuroo out of his bed before the others woke up, and when prodding his shoulder didn't work, he got on his knees beside Kuroo and dropped his phone on top of his head. It slid off when he bolted upright, asking in a shout where the fire was, and settled back with a confused expression as the others jolted awake.

Rubbing the back of his head with a wince, he frowned at Kenma. "What did you just do?"

"You were stealing my pillow. I dropped my phone on your head to wake you up."

He continued rubbing the back of his head, looking distinctly confused until he saw that his covers were currently on Kenma's bed and Kenma's were on the far side, at which he smiled. "Come on, you never minded us sharing a bed before."

There were obvious titters; Kenma knew it was part of the reaction he expected from his smile. Everyone's eyes were on them, and Kenma felt an overwhelming urge to hide and hold his breath until the world disappeared from around him. His fists clenched in his covers and cold sweat on his brow, he stammered out a protest and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if someone was watching and laughing at him from behind. When he checked, no one was there, but the sensation remained as he stayed still on his bed, asking Kuroo in a small voice to get off his bed.

Someone—he wasn't sure who—told him to lighten up (it wasn't Kuroo; Kuroo was currently looking at him with a mixture of chagrin and surprise as he bit his lip until it was bleeding and shivered even though it wasn't cold). Kuroo ignored what he'd asked and caught hold of his shoulder. "Hey, Kenma—"

He cried out with surprise when Kenma shoved him backwards and leapt to his feet to run outside into the hallway,down the hallway, trying to remember which turns led outside. He'd forgotten his phone, which was bad because there was no way he could go back and get it now and he had nothing to distract himself from his ragged breathing and the tingle up his spine as if people were still watching him, judging him. He sometimes wished he could be more like Kuroo, comfortable enough within his own skin to make such jokes and not worry how others would react.

It was over half an hour before he quietly went back into the room, just as the last of the team left and hunted around for his phone, realised that Kuroo must have taken it with him, and dragged his bedding into a far corner further away from the rest of them.

That evening, after avoiding Kuroo as much as possible, he was late back to the room. Kenma put his covers over his head and to pass time played one of the newest apps on his phone (which Kuroo had handed back gingerly as if Kenma would scratch or bite him).

The covers were pulled off him after a while and Kenma turned to see Kuroo, balancing a plate with a few slices of apple pie on one hand and a hopeful expression on his face.

"To say sorry," he said, letting Kenma take the plate from him and handing him a fork. Kenma dove onto the pie before pulling a face. "It's still not good?" Kuroo said, taking the fork from him and trying a bit himself.

Worse than usual, actually, but as always it was the thought that counted.

3 – When Kenma finally explained to Kuroo what it was that made him so uncomfortable sometimes, as if at some points he was in the wrong skin, the reaction hadn't been what he'd hoped. The argument still rolling around in his mind, spilling out into his room and hiding in shadows, he pulled blanket after blanket out of his cupboard and hid himself under them. If Kuroo never came back; so disgusted at him that he would completely forget everything that had brought them together, the last remnants of him would be the argument. It would be incessant and constant, always in his mind.

"_I don't know what the problem is, Kenma... it's just gender... stop making it such a big issue... you're over-reacting... you're a boy; that's all there is to it..."_

He let the phone drop from his hand, the dim light from the screen illuminating the folds of the blanket around him.

"It's important to me," he said quietly. "I don't always feel comfortable." The Kuroo in his mind was listening, but still shook his head. "It's not all the time. It's almost like my mind is split and some days one is more vocal than the others." He wondered that if he'd been able to clearly explain it before Kuroo had ignored his arguments it would have gone better. It was his insecurity. Everything was due to that. "I feel sometimes like I'm being pulled in different directions and I don't know how to stop it from tearing me apart." He worked his way out of the blankets and flattened his dark hair before looking up, realising that he wasn't alone, and Kuroo was standing in the doorway.

"Kenma—" He broke off when Kenma pulled the blankets over his head again. Kuroo had heard all of that... wait, was he back to try to convince Kenma that how he felt was wrong? No, that couldn't be it; it was too cruel. "I have apple pie."

Kenma peeked out. "Your mother's recipe?"

"Yes. I followed the instructions exactly."

Kuroo handed him the plate when he reached out for it and sat next to him. "It's still bad," Kenma said when he tasted a piece and gave it back as Kuroo groaned and fell onto his side.

"Every time..."

Both quiet, it was more awkward between them than it had been for years, until Kenma asked him to leave.

"No. I... I'm really sorry, Kenma. I knew as soon as I left that how I spoke was wrong and I regret it. I was a bad friend." Kenma didn't want to look at him, certain that he was lying. "Please don't shut me out. I'll make it up to you."

"It was really difficult to tell you."

"I know."

"And you were the first person I told."

"I'm sorry." There was a pause, before Kuroo insistently pulled the covers off. "You'll never have any reason to mistrust me again."

Kenma blinked, looked at the abandoned pie on the plate next to them and got to his knees as he nodded. "I want to start a new leaf. Maybe if I really accept myself as I am I'll be more content." He caught sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and lifted up a strand of hair. "Maybe I'll dye it," he said under his breath.

4 – Kenma could pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Kuroo on his eighteenth birthday. It hadn't been a slow, gentle descent. It hadn't been building up on him gradually until finally, in a searing strike of passion the realisation dawned. It had just been that one moment he didn't love Kuroo, and the next moment he did.

Kuroo coming back home from university to surprise him on his birthday would have been a good surprise, had he not fallen asleep on the sofa, leaning on Kenma and making it impossible for him to move, only an hour after he arrived with an apple pie which was really the worst of the lot. It took a few minutes of gentle manoeuvring to be able to take his DS out of his jacket pocket and distract himself with it for a while (as his mother watched them both in silent shock and amusement) until Kuroo finally woke up again and promptly flopped onto the arm of the sofa. "Did I tell you that you look really good with your hair like that?"

Kenma almost dropped his DS in shock and turned to look at Kuroo, being overtaken by all the other racers on his game in a moment. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, Kenma. You look kinda... hot."

Shaking his head, Kenma placed the console next to him. He hadn't dyed his hair since the very first time and the colour was almost completely grown out, and as well as that it really needed to be cut.

"It surprised me when you opened the door, actually—" He jumped when Kenma flicked him on the forehead and frowned, looking distinctly confused. "What?" Kenma just looked at him. "What was I just saying?"

Kenma picked up the console again. "Nothing."

From how uncomfortable he was looking, Kenma was sure that he remembered exactly what he'd said.

And the exact moment he fell for Kuroo was when he came back from a shower that evening to Kuroo talking on speaker-phone to his mother, insisting that he'd done everything she said but the apple pie just hadn't come out right. In the light from the open refrigerator, standing comfortably in his pyjamas as if there was nowhere else in the world he could be. It wasn't a despairing fall, just a part of himself that slotted neatly into place and formed another facet of who he was.

He hung up the phone after saying goodbye to his mother and took a bottle of water from the fridge. Kenma watched him drink it whilst musing how to broach the subject, or whether he ever should.

"Am I sleeping in your room?" he asked when he noticed Kenma, who nodded. "I'll go to sleep now, then. I don't sleep enough these days." He seemed offended when Kenma laughed before putting a hand to his mouth and purposefully walked into him.

He didn't leave until the next afternoon, having to borrow an umbrella because of the pouring rain.

"At least you have a reason to come back," Kenma said, standing in the doorway and tapping the umbrella. "That's mine. You'll have to give it back to me."

He gave a cocky grin, the same one he'd had for years, before ducking in to kiss Kenma's cheek. He hadn't done that since they were children—so long ago, it seemed. Kenma, experimental and wondering, turned his head so Kuroo's lips brushed against his own.

Kuroo didn't pull away. It didn't feel strange, or particularly wonderful and spectacular, just very warm. Kuroo's lips were soft against his, his fingertips rough and gentle against his cheek. When Kenma pulled away, he didn't protest. He left after small smile, not cocky, not forced but entirely natural and innocent.

1 – That Tetsurou could be very lazy at times was a given, but when Kenma came home after an entire, soul-sucking day of university lectures, and his breakfast things were still on the table and Tetsurou was napping on the sofa he may have lost it a little. Though he still believed that the phone (Tetsurou's) that he aimed at the head (also Tetsurou's) was entirely merited.

"Ow..." he whined as he woke up, rubbing the spot on his head where the phone struck him and sticking his bottom lip out in a pout when he saw Kenma. "That hurt," he said, propping himself up with his elbows. "You look beautiful, by the way."

At any other moment, Kenma may have looked away, embarrassed and rather annoyed by Tetsurou's incessant adulation, but he was on a mission. "Your breakfast things are still on the table."

"So?" Tetsurou said, falling back again with his eyes closed and lifting the front of his top. "It's really hot in here."

"Really?" Kenma said, continuing by throwing a pillow at him. "Breakfast things. _Now_."

"I'll do it later, Kenma."

"Of course you will," Kenma said disparagingly, going back into the kitchen and cleaning it up himself, ignoring how Tetsurou insisted that he would have done it and made half-hearted moves to take him away from the sink.

Having already made plans with Hinata and unwilling to stay in close proximity to Tetsurou for more than a few moments, it was dark and close to ten in the evening by the time he came back home to the smell of baking.

"I thought I'd try one last time," Tetsurou said over his shoulder, watching him warily before taking an apple pie out of the oven. "H-how are you?"

As the kitchen was still close to spotless, Kenma stayed instead of barricading himself upstairs, taking the hair slides out of his hair as Tetsurou cut a piece off. "You try it first," Tetsurou said, watching his creation as if it was about to explode. Kenma, feeling rather like he should get a medal for his bravery, took the fork from Tetsurou's hand and gingerly tried the corner.

He wasn't sure whether the shock that it actually had a _nice_ flavour was worse than how he'd expected it to be, and Tetsurou watched his expression. "It's that bad?" he said disparagingly. "I don't get it."

"No; it's really good. Almost as good as your mothers."

Unbelieving, he tried a bit himself.

His celebration was a _little_ too over the top, but Kenma still only looked at him, smiling and realising again and again how much he loved Tetsurou, before settling into his arms, a whispered "_Marry me_," in Tetsurou's ear.


End file.
